


still got a lot of soul underneath my skin

by frankchurchillsaysrelax



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, a lot of hurt and a little bit of comfort, angsty af, michael's left hand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 23:32:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18376343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankchurchillsaysrelax/pseuds/frankchurchillsaysrelax
Summary: A simple question from Kyle opens old wounds.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A drunk Kyle is a nosy Kyle; or, Michael finally goes off about a headcanon I’ve had since the flashback episode. Originally posted over on my tumblr.

“Dude, what happened to your hand?”

 

Everyone falls silent at Kyle’s slightly too loud question. A couple beers in and, as usual, he’s lost the ability to control his volume. As usual, he doesn’t care. They’re all taking a night off from tracking down the fourth alien, he doesn’t have to care about anything tonight. Their friends stare at where Kyle and Michael sit on the built in bench in the corner of Max’s living room.

 

“You’ve never noticed it before?” Isobel asks with far more shock in her voice than the situation warrants as far as he’s concerned. 

 

“Sorry I don’t go around checking out Guerin’s hands.” The statement is ironic considering he now has his face less than a foot away, scrutinizing said hands even as he continues sipping his beer. Michael looks about a second away from smacking him.

 

“This injury is old and obviously never healed properly,” Kyle says mostly to himself. He sets his beer down on the floor before placing the palm of his right hand against Michael’s left. “Here, push against my hand as hard as you can.”

 

“What the fuck Valenti?” Michael tries to pull his hand away but Kyle holds onto his wrist not letting him get far. “I’m not interested in playing doctor with you.” 

 

“Just do it,” he snaps.

 

After a few moments where Michael is clearly debating punching him, he finally acquiesces. Kyle can hardly feel the pressure exerted from the broken hand, the crooked joints digging into his fingers the biggest tell that Michael is even doing anything at all. He pushes back harder hoping the added resistance will encourage a stronger reaction but it only ends up shoving Michael’s hand back towards himself, his elbow colliding with the stone bench. Michael curses and Kyle ignores him.

 

“Ok now make a fist.” Michael complies quickly as he glares directly at Kyle. It should probably concern him but he leans in closer to get a better look anyway. The bones and tendons shift in an unnatural way and soon Michael’s grip eases as if holding the position is causing him pain. 

 

“This is some pretty serious damage Guerin.” Kyle leans back, grabbing his beer but unable to take his eyes off of the injury.

 

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.” Michael rips his hand away, crossing his arms and tucking the left hand out of sight. He curls in on himself and focuses his attention on where his boot kicks up the edge of the rug in front of them. His jaw is clenched tight as he shuts himself off and Kyle would almost feel bad if his curiosity wasn’t so strong. 

 

“So what happened?” Kyle presses. The others have all drifted closer during the impromptu examination and Michael looks up, immediately finding Alex who stands only a few feet away looking almost as upset as Guerin. The two of them hold some kind of silent conversation with their huge expressive eyes in that way they’ve taken to recently.

 

Kyle does feel bad when tears threaten to spill over from Michael’s eyes as he pointedly ignores the continued gawking of the other six people lurking nearby. Maybe this wasn’t the best setting for this conversation after all. He opens his mouth to tell them to forget about it but is interrupted.

 

“My dad.” Alex clears his throat, his voice uneven as emotion floods his attempt to use his military tone. “Caught us back in high school and he took a hammer to his hand.”

 

Their gathered audience reacts outwardly for the first time. Liz and Maria gasp and Isobel softly calls Michael’s name, though he ignores it. The lights flicker briefly as Max clenches his fists, turning away for a moment to regain control. 

 

“How many times?” Kyle asks, gentler this time.

 

“Four.” Michael and Alex speak in unison. 

 

Alex comes to sit on Michael’s other side wrapping an arm around his waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. He whispers something for Michael’s ears only and the tension eases in his shoulders if only infinitesimally. 

 

Kyle looks away not wanting to intrude on their moment. He looks to his friends instead. They all look the way he feels. Several of them are crying, Max looks like he ready to burn everything to the ground.

 

A thought suddenly occurs to him and he turns back to where Michael now rests most of his weight against Alex. “Max’s healing didn’t work?” 

 

“Knock it off, Kyle,” Alex warns but Michael answers anyway, his voice devoid of almost all emotion, not even a trace of his incessant sarcasm.

 

“It was the night Rosa,” he pauses but they all know what he means. “It was the same night. Max was a little preoccupied. Didn’t see him or Is for a couple of days after that so I dealt with it.”

 

“Did you go to some kind of back alley doctor?” Kyle scoffs. Because no professional would leave it like this.” 

 

“No hospitals. Not for any reason.” Michael shrugs, still looking at the floor. “Couldn’t afford it anyway,” he adds under his breath. 

 

“What do you mean you dealt with it?” Alex questions, apparently latching on to something that the rest of them couldn’t hear. He tries to look into his eyes but Michael evades him. “Damn it Guerin!” 

 

Michael springs to his feet, tugging aggressively at his hair as he paces in a tight circle. Tension rolls off of him encompassing the entire room, stretching tighter and tighter like a rubber band forced to hold too much. Various objects in the room start to rattle and the whole group seems to hold a collective breath.

 

“What?” Michael growls, first at Alex and then directing his fury solely at Kyle. “What do you want me to say? Huh? That I couldn’t go to the hospital? That my siblings were looking at me like I was a murderer and I couldn’t bear asking anything else from either of them? That I ran out of acetone and couldn’t afford more, couldn’t steal any because I was terrified the cops would find out what we did?

 

“That I checked out medical texts from the library and drove out to the mines where no one could hear me scream and used my powers to try and set the bones until I passed out, over and over again until I couldn’t take anymore?” His voice is broken by the end and he is unable to hold back a sob that tears itself from his chest like a roar. Light bulbs in the lamp at his back abruptly shatter, showering the floor and Michael himself with glass. He doesn’t even flinch. 

 

Nobody moves, a room of frozen statues too afraid to do as much as breathe if it might break the man falling apart before them. 

 

Michael coughs, eventually gaining control of his breathing. He can’t look at anyone though all eyes are on him.

 

“I had a problem, I took care of it.” He says as evenly as he can. “Like always.”

 

The door beside Kyle opens without anyone touching it and slams behind him as Michael leaves.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of healing after the hurt.

Max is aware of his tendency to hold needless pity parties. Isobel calls him out on it often enough. Sitting here listening to Liz call Michael for the sixth time and leaving yet another pleading voicemail he’s trying his best not to fall into the habit. This is about Michael not about Max’s guilty conscience. 

 

Liz rests her hand on the knee he hadn’t realized was bouncing. “I’m sure he’s fine. He just needs some time Max,” she assures him gently.

 

“He’s self destructive. Him being alone right now probably isn’t the best idea.” He grabs her hand, lacing their fingers together and resting them on his leg. He is so grateful that Liz was the one to stay back with him, her presence seemingly always having a calming effect on him. 

 

Michael had been long gone by the time the shock had faded and the group had sprung into action. Alex had been the first to leave, hastily calling out that he was going to the junkyard. Maria had dragged Kyle to check out the Pony and Isobel and Noah, wanting all of their bases covered, had headed out to the pods. Cam offered to drive through town and keep an eye out, leaving Max and Liz to hold down the fort on the off chance Michael came back. 

 

That was almost an hour ago. Max had distracted himself while Liz made phone calls by cleaning up abandoned drinks and snacks and then going to flip the breaker when he inevitably lost control. After that, Liz had dragged him to sit and wait with her silently on the couch. 

 

“Michael?”

 

Max follows Liz’s gaze and can just barely make out the shadowed figure approaching the house through the darkness. Impatient, he stands and rushes out the door before Michael can reach the house. 

 

He stops a few feet from his brother eyeing him like a wild animal before ultimately deciding it would be safe to go further. He pulls Michael into a hug, something he realizes they haven’t done properly in years.

 

Michael hesitantly pats him on the back but otherwise stands motionless. Max steps away after a few awkward moments and notices Michael glancing around the empty yard and the noticeable lack of cars.

 

“Guess I kind of killed the party.” He attempts his usual smirk but it’s a pale comparison to the real thing. Adjusting to the dim light cast from his outdoor lamp, Max can see the puffiness of his eyes.

 

“They’re all out looking for you.” Liz approaches, dragging Michael into another hug. He goes more willingly for her but his movements are still tentative. She whispers something to him and Max can only make out a soft  _ Mikey _ that evokes a genuine smile from his brother. She comes to stand next to Max and wraps an arm around his waist, a silent supporter. 

 

“Your truck wasn’t here so we sent a search party.” Max attempts a teasing tone but sounds more somber than anything.

 

Michael looks at him confused before turning to Liz. “I rode here with you.”

 

Liz’s eyes go wide and her mouth opens like she’s about to say something before snapping shut. “Right. Well I’m just going to go call everyone and let them know you’re back. Yeah, ok.” She nods and runs swiftly back into the house.

 

Max shares an amused look with Michael before gesturing for him to take a seat at the fire pit. An awkward silence descends as it so often does with them. 

 

“I can see why you and Alex always had trouble communicating,” Max says, startling Michael into making eye contact. “He kind of lashes out when he’s upset too.” 

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“He kind of went off on me after you left.” Max chuckles humorlessly. “Told me I’d been a shitty brother for a long time.”

 

Michael looks stunned but there’s something else in his expression, something like embarrassment or perhaps pride. Max can’t tell in the dark. Or maybe he just can’t read Michael. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

 

“No. But, I mean, he was right.” Max looks at him and wonders not for the first time how they got here. “I am so sorry Michael.” 

 

Michael leans forward and runs his hands over his face. “This is why I never told you or Isobel anything, I don’t need your pity or your guilt complex.” 

 

Max frowns. “That’s not what this is man. I’m sorry because I did wrong by you. You’re my brother and I wasn’t around for you like I should have been. The way you always have been for us.” 

 

Michael starts to protest but Max holds up a hand to silence him. “No, you need to listen. I’m not looking for your forgiveness or asking you to clear away my guilt. I’m always going to be pissed at myself.” Alex’s words echo in his mind, the truth of them still sharply cutting at his heart. “But I can’t go back and change the fact that I didn’t heal you. 

 

“I wish I had. God, I wish I had talked to you about Alex, that I had convinced you to go to UNM, that I had checked in with you more.” He takes a deep breath and looks across the stretch of darkness at the open and vulnerable look on Michael’s face. Staring back at him is a memory of a boy who used to be his best friend. Max feels like he hasn’t truly looked at Michael in over a decade. “I can’t change it but I can do better now.” 

 

Michael doesn’t say anything and his gaze eventually drops to the empty fire pit. Now is when he says something sarcastic or hurtful and shuts down the conversation. Michael makes deflection an artform. 

 

“For a long time I wondered if you thought I lied when I told you Isobel did it.”

 

Max has no response for this unexpected confession. His brain doesn’t even seem to be able to process a thought so absurd. 

 

“It took a couple years, I guess, before I realized you didn’t, but yeah for a while I thought you might.” He sits back in his chair and crosses his arms defensively, a sure sign that Max needs to tread lightly. 

 

“Why?” Max still doesn’t understand what exactly Michael is trying to say.

 

“I mean I get it. If I did it, if I had killed them, then you might not have protected me the way we protected her. And she was passed out when you got there so I could have just said it was her.” Michael laughs suddenly and Max’s worry spikes. “Saying it out loud now, it doesn’t make any fucking sense does it?”

 

Max can’t help but laugh as well. “It really doesn’t.” He hates to steal the happiness from the moment but he has to ask. “I still don’t get why you thought that though.” 

 

Michael sobers and looks to be choosing his words more carefully this time, eyebrows drawn together in thought. “You didn’t look at me after that. Not in the same way at least.” Hearing his own thoughts from earlier vocalized is like a punch to the stomach. “You treated Is like nothing happened, even after everything, but overnight it was like I wasn’t even your friend anymore and I just, I don’t know, I missed you?”

 

His tone may be unsure but Max sees the honesty in that statement written all over his face.

 

Max tries to put himself back in the days following that night. He remembers not being able to look Michael in the eyes knowing he had just stood back and watched as he took the blame to spare Isobel the pain of knowing what she had done. It ate away at him more and more over the years until it consumed their entire relationship.

 

“I couldn’t look at you because it just reminded me of what we did. Every time I saw you it felt like reliving that night all over again, but I don’t know why it wasn’t that way with Isobel.” Max feels the pull of self pity and guilt wanting to drag him under again but now is not the time.

 

“Because it’s always been different with you two.” Michael shrugs with a smirk, his carefully built persona slipping back into place, except now Max can see through it easily.

 

“I thought you felt the same way, you know.” It sounds like a cheap excuse even to his own ears. “Like it was some unspoken deal that we had to just go our separate ways.”

 

Michael scoffs and stares at Max like he’s an idiot which in its own way is familiar. 

 

“Well it was definitely unspoken because I sure as hell never got the memo.” His smile turns sad. “I needed my brother.” Max can only imagine how hard something like that is for him to admit and expects him to leave it there, but Michael pushes through any discomfort and looks him straight in the eye. “My whole world was falling apart. Besides being an accessory to murder, I lost my hand, my music, I gave up my scholarship. I thought I lost Alex.”

 

“I really am sorry.” Tears have gathered in his eyes and cling stubbornly to his lashes. He ignores them and hopes Michael can’t see.

 

After a moment Michael stretches his foot to tap his boot against Max’s and he looks almost fond. “It’s fine. We can’t go back and change anything remember?”

 

Max nods but he feels small after everything he’s learned tonight. He resolves to be the brother Michael deserves from now on and to drag these conversations out of him now that he knows just how much he hides away from everyone.

 

A car door slams and the quiet atmosphere they’ve inhabited is broken. 

 

“Guerin!” Alex’s voice carries over to them followed by the sound of an uneven tread as he tries to run across gravel. 

 

Michael is standing instantly and hurrying to meet him halfway. Their arms wrap around each other with a practiced ease and their foreheads are drawn together like magnets. Max watches the intimate moment with a sense of peace that seems to radiate directly from the two men standing before him. The way Michael sags against Alex and allows him to carry some of his weight is akin to poetry and Max is glad he is able to witness it. The two of them have spent too long forced to hide this side of themselves away from the world.

 

Still, Max knows that he can’t just sit here watching them, especially when they seem to have forgotten he’s there and show no signs of separating anytime soon. He stands and heads for the door as quietly as he can, allowing himself a final glance through the glass once he’s safely inside. 

 

Two arms wrap around him from behind drawing him away from the window. 

 

“Stop being a creepy older brother and come to bed.” 


End file.
